


Kind and Soft

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [99]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, kind of???, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Jack doesn’t make room for softness on his team.Are kindness and softness the same thing?
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Owen Harper & Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato, Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness & Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [99]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	Kind and Soft

Fandom: Torchwood

Prompt: “Please don’t misunderstand me.”

* * *

Jack doesn’t make room for softness on his team.

If you asked him like _that,_ he’d wink and make it into some stupid innuendo that—well, probably not _stupid,_ he’s actually quite creative when it comes to those, but an innuendo nonetheless. But it would be played off as a joke. A joke that comes with a split-second of ‘this is life and death and you’d better get used to it’ smacking you across the face as he stares at you. If you asked it in a slightly different way, it wouldn’t be necessarily _easier_ to get a clear answer out of the man, but he’d find a way to get the message across.

No softness. No weakness. You won’t survive.

Ianto has never been a cold-blooded person. His mother would recall him crying over bugs he’d stepped on or worms that couldn’t make it back to the safety of the grass when the rain let up. She’d shake her head at her sensitive boy and pat his back, saying he’d grow out of it eventually. Well, if the sting of tears that followed Ianto everywhere he went was any indicator, his sensitive heart wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

He _did_ learn how to hide it, disguising the few tears that would manage to leak out behind sniffles and murmurs of allergies, or large yawns that he hid sloppily in the crook of his arm. Thos just got him a few sympathetic looks and an extra crack at the coffee machine, not that everyone lost out on those. He learned how to pass off his acts of kindness as part of his job, or as damage control, rationalizing it as a method of protection. He remembers one day, being asked about why he’s spending so much time being concerned about his colleagues at a desk job, before Torchwood One, and saying it was in the company’s best interest to keep a stable work environment, and for him to get along with his colleagues. And at that point the lie rolled easily off his tongue, having been told so many times. It was one of the _first_ times he’d gotten some confusion mixed in with the approval.

Someone compared him to an android once; he’d worked out an algorithm of human behavior and knew how to optimize his own position in it. It made Ianto laugh at first. Wasn’t the whole deal with androids that they didn’t feel? Ianto had the opposite problem, he felt too much. He just learned how to bury it under layers and layers of social red tape. Later, when everything happened with the battle and Torchwood One collapsed, he wondered if maybe he _was_ an android, seizing opportunity after opportunity to be kind, to be secretive about being kind, regardless of who it would hurt.

Ianto had seen what happened to kind people in this world. Kind people weren’t born kind very often, and if they were, they rarely ever stayed kind. The world didn’t approve of kindness, certainly not for everything. It bruised and battered kind people until they had two choices: continue being kind and suffer, or change and shield your heart. The downside of the latter, of course, is that you would become the thing you really didn’t want to. You would become more cynical, less willing to trust, more suspicious. That was never fun.

Ianto was one of the lucky ones. He could stay kind, as much as he could, until he went too far for a singular act of kindness.

Lisa was everything he could see. She was a victim, brutalized in the mess Torchwood One had created. In the aftermath of Doomsday, it tore at Ianto’s bleeding heart to see her so…so _hurt_ by everything that had happened. So he took his kindness and honed it, sharpened it, made it into a tool that would _save_ Lisa.

It didn’t.

It almost destroyed the world.

And by this point, he’d grown fond of Torchwood Three. They were good people, by and large. They had a different breed of kindness, one that they hid behind layers of armor and dirty hands. Ianto didn’t mind, not until they tried to bury _his_ the same way. Ianto dodged. He jumped. He danced around their code of kindness by burying himself in the archives, making sure his kindness got channeled into Lisa, into helping someone he _knew_ he could help. But he couldn’t stop his kindness from leaking out in small ways; he always kept Tosh’s favorite mug at the front of his tray so she could grab it, he always carried an extra set of earplugs for Owen, he made sure Susie always had yellow post-its for her notes, he made sure Jack always knew when the next call was. He turned his coffee-making into the lifeblood of Torchwood Three, making himself as useful as he could through small acts of kindness.

Then Lisa had…died.

Ianto’s kindness was now under immense suspicion. Everything he’d done before then was under scrutiny: had he really been there to help them? Had he tricked them all into believing he was a good person? What else was he hiding?

Ianto’s social red tape didn’t miss him when it swamped Torchwood Three. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering whether or not he was a kind person, or whether he’d convinced himself that he was, and in reality was no better than the android he’d been accused of being so many years ago.

He didn’t stop his little acts of kindness. He kept the coffee pumping through Torchwood. The archives were immaculate. The paperwork was always filed, the rooms always clean. Gwen, she was here now in place of Susie, _she_ was the beating heart of Torchwood Three now, brazen and brash and uncompromising in her kindness.

_Good for her,_ Ianto remembers thinking, _that she can wear her kindness like this and not be squished under Torchwood’s heel._

He would be lying if he didn’t feel the slightest twinge of jealousy when it worked, though. That he didn’t wish _he_ was the one who could convince Jack to do something more to help, to help Tosh out when she needed a companion, to grow closer to Owen. Well, maybe not _that_ close. He…he’d been good, hadn’t he? Been kind?

Maybe Lisa was his karma for _believing_ he could be kind.

Gwen didn’t stay as kind as she first had, though, and it hurt Ianto in the most twisted way when she started falling down the Torchwood rabbit hole. The lies, the schemes, the blood, everything. Realizing how _far_ they have to go in the name of safety. It wasn’t as easy as just being kind. Part of Ianto wanted to comfort Gwen like this, tell her it was hard, yes, but she had to keep trying. But Gwen was too fiery for Ianto’s small acts of kindness, too focused on delivering overwhelming results. Ianto couldn’t find fault in her determination. And _she’d_ never done anything that would merit the level of suspicion Ianto still had.

So Ianto kept his little acts of kindness as Gwen became the beacon Torchwood Three needed to tie it back to the rest of the world.

Until she wasn’t.

Somewhere along the line, Ianto had realized that kindness wasn’t just about right and wrong, but about levels of suffering. Was it _right_ to lie to someone on their deathbed about the fact that their loved one had already passed? Was it _right_ to lie to an entire population that believed aliens didn’t exist? Was it _right_ to keep people from being hurt by something they weren’t aware of?

One of Ianto’s favorite things about Gwen coming to Torchwood is she gives them a different moral compass, one that is _vested_ in the reason Torchwood was founded in the first place: _helping_ people. The problems came when helping people became doing what was _right,_ what was _good,_ and not always what was kind.

It may have been right to some of the things they did, but not kind. And as Ianto watched Gwen struggle with what that meant, straying further and further from her own ideas of right and wrong, he found himself repeating something his mother had said to him.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Used to hiding. Used to not wanting to be kind when it was punished. Used to camouflaging kind behind right, or easy, or efficient.

Then Tosh came up to him one day after their shift.

“Ianto, wait!”

Ianto slows obediently, waiting for Tosh to catch up to him. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a new sweet shop that’s opened up downtown,” Tosh says, adjusting her purse strap, “will you come check it out with me?”

Ianto blinks. “Of-of course, Tosh.”

Tosh beams. “Thanks! Come on, we’ve got _things_ to talk about.”

Unlike almost everyone else in the building apparently, Tosh and Ianto _did_ talk to each other, both in and outside of work. So they stroll down the pavement, Tosh wrapping her arm through Ianto’s as the chat idly.

The sweet shop is glorious, both of them inhaling the scent of chocolate greedily as they cross the threshold. They make eye contact and immediately decide that yes, one of _everything_ is coming with them.

There is something very satisfying about carrying a heavy sack of sweets out to sit by the water and gorge yourself silly on them with a friend.

“So,” Tosh says, her mouth full of chocolate, “what’s been up with you?”

“Saving people,” Ianto replies, “filing paperwork.”

Tosh laughs. “No, really. You’ve been…a little different ever since Gwen came.”

“We’ve all been a little different since Gwen came, haven’t we?”

“Come on,” Tosh coaxes, knocking his arm lightly with her elbow, “you know that’s not what I mean.”

Ianto takes a deep breath. “I’m not—I don’t dislike Gwen.”

Tosh pops another sweet into her mouth. “And?”

“She’s kind,” Ianto manages, “she is. She’s determined to make sure Torchwood does the best it can, for _everyone._ She’s kind.”

“You mentioned,” Tosh says, scooting a little closer. “What is it, Ianto?”

Ianto looks down. His hands start to tremble lightly against the chocolate. “Please don’t misunderstand me.”

“You’re hard not to understand, Ianto.”

Ianto huffs. “I don’t know, sometimes I think otherwise.”

Tosh frowns. “What do you mean?”

Here goes nothing. “Am I kind, Tosh?”

Tosh’s eyes widen. “Of course you are, Ianto,” she says immediately, reaching out to stroke his arm, “you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

“But I’m not Gwen.”

“No, thank god,” Tosh mutters, making Ianto laugh, “I don’t know if I could stand two of you.”

She sobers. “ _You_ are kind in the way that a good friend is kind. You help people help themselves, Ianto. Gwen…Gwen is big on _large_ kindness. Big, save-the-world type of thing.”

Ianto nods.

“I think…I think Jack likes Gwen’s kindness because it’s what _he_ needs to hear sometimes,” Tosh says carefully, “but I don’t think we’d be able to do half the things we already do without you.”

“Th-thank you, Tosh,” Ianto stammers, “that’s…well, that’s kind of you to say.”

“After all you’ve done for us, I think it’s the least I can do,” she laughs. “But where is this coming from?”

Ianto leans back against the bench. “I…Torchwood isn’t a job where you can show weakness.”

“No,” Tosh agrees, “not really.”

“Gwen’s kindness is strong,” Ianto mumbles, “it’s fierce and it’s uncompromising. Mine…”

“If you are about to tell me that kindness is a weakness, Ianto Jones,” Tosh says, “I’m about to hit you with a bag of sweets.”

Ianto laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “I won’t.”

“You aren’t soft, Ianto Jones,” Tosh says, “nor are you weak. You know better than anyone that kind people are kind because they know the world isn’t.”

Ianto nods. He _does_ know this, his brain just…has a convenient habit of forgetting it. “Thank you, Tosh.”

“Don’t you forget it,” she scolds lightly, “and if you do, come back and I’ll remind you again. Now, help me finish these before Owen figures out we have them.”

Ianto stops hiding his acts of kindness now. He says he wants to do them to help, so he does. He still passes Tosh her mug first, he still helps Owen manage the amount of sensory input around the Hub, he still runs the archives like the back of his hand, and he gets everything squared away exactly how he likes it.

Tosh smiles at him and invites him to talk outside their new favorite sweet shop. Owen claps him on the arm and drags him out to pubs. Gwen comes to talk with him about what they can do, the balance between right and kind when the need arises.

Jack calls him into his office one day and doesn’t say anything, just pulls him into a warm hug. Ianto hugs back, of course, bemused as to what’s going on and slightly nervous as to what’s happened.

“Nothing’s happened,” Jack murmurs, tightening his grip on Ianto, “I just…wanted to thank you.”

“For what, sir?”

Jack squeezes his middle and pulls back, cupping Ianto’s face. “For being you.”

“Me, sir?”

“Kind and wonderful and _Welsh_ and—“

“Alright,” Ianto laughs nervously, pulling away, “what’s happened?”

Jack looks confused. “Huh?”

“Just tell me what happened and I’ll fix it,” Ianto says, “you don’t need to do all of that.”

A look of realization dawns on Jack’s face and he reaches for Ianto again. “I didn’t do anything,” he soothes, “and nothing happened. Well, Tosh happened.”

“Tosh?”

“I asked her what I could do to make you happier.”

Ianto blinks. “ _Why?_ ”

Jack shrugs. “Because you’re _you,_ Ianto, and you’re as much a part of this team as anyone else.”

“…thank…you?”

Jack sighs. “This isn’t going as well as I wanted it to.”

“And what, exactly, did you want to happen?”

“Well, I wanted you to come here so I could thank you for being wonderful and kind and everything,” Jack says, taking Ianto’s hands and putting them around his neck, “and then you would say thank you and let me take you out for dinner.”

Before Ianto’s brain can process _what the bloody—_ Jack frowns. “Wasn’t expecting you to take it as a prelude to something going wrong.”

Ianto shrugs helplessly. “Got used to it.”

Jack’s face darkens. “You mean people used to only compliment you when they _wanted_ something?”

Ianto gives him a look. “Sir, you know perfectly well that happens more often than you’d care to admit.”

Jack nods, then he raises his chin. “We’ll be better about that.”

Ianto frowns. “Now, what was this about taking me to dinner?”

Jack _blushes._ “Surely you know I like you, Ianto.”

“You like a lot of things, sir,” Ianto says warily, “doesn’t necessarily correlate.”

Jack sets his hands on Ianto’s waist and Ianto’s struck with the realization that it looks like they’re about to dance together. And yet…he really doesn’t want to pull away.

“Besides,” he says quickly to save face, “wasn’t it you who said that attachments are a liability? No room for softness on the clock?”

“Of course you remember that,” Jack murmurs fondly, “but yes, Ianto, I did say that. Then…well, then things happened and I realized I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Softness and all?”

“Yeah, why…” Jack fixes him with a look. “Ianto, have you been…is that—oh, _no._ ”

Ianto barely has time to blink before Jack’s swooped in and pulled him into another hug.

“Did you try and stop being you because I said that?”

Ianto feels his cheeks burn but he nods. Jack curses under his breath, holding Ianto tight.

“We’ll be better about it,” he promises, “and no more talk about that. But, uh, for the record?”

Ianto lifts his head a little.

“You’re not weak, Ianto. Sometimes I think you’re the strongest one out of all of us.”

“W-why?”

Jack pulls back, smiling. “Because you’re kind.”

“So are the others.”

Jack chucks him lightly under the chin. “Not like you.”

It takes a few weeks for it to _really_ start working, but it works. Ianto is happy. And if he lets Jack talk him into taking him out on a date that they both _obviously_ want to go on, well, he’s just being kind, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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